


Incidental Magic

by Nerissa



Category: The Secret Circle (TV)
Genre: Childhood, Female Friendship, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-14 14:04:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7174811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerissa/pseuds/Nerissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Childhood was a sparkling collection of sleepovers, dress up and almost-accidentally figuring out who they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Incidental Magic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [facethestrange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/facethestrange/gifts).



When Melissa was in first grade, she went to stay with her grandmother.

That wasn't anything new by itself. Melissa was used to weekends with Gran and sometimes weekdays too. She had her own room all to herself with a big, squishy double bed that made her feel like a princess. Gran let her wear every piece of amethyst in the jewelry box and watch all the TV she liked.

This visit was different from the others, though, because it was longer than the rest. She was only supposed to stay two nights and go home Tuesday after school but something happened to her father's work schedule and suddenly Melissa had to stay for a week. Nobody would tell her why, but for that week all the flights were grounded and Gran made a horrible new house rule: no TV allowed.

“No! Why?” Melissa cried, but Gran was not in an explaining mood.

“Because I said so, Melissa,” she replied, and a strange, heavy shimmer settled in Melissa's mind around those words.

“All right,” she said, and the strange thing was she  _meant_  it. Her fledgling plan to sneak out of her room after Gran was in bed and watch the late night cartoons shriveled and died in its infancy, and after that she didn't once contemplate disobeying.

Without TV it might have been the most boring week of all time, but on Wednesday Mrs. Meade brought Diana to visit. Diana was in Melissa's class at school so they knew each other a little, but Melissa had never seen Mrs. Meade before. Diana's grandmother was tall and sharp looking. Even when she smiled there were corners in it.

Gran greeted her like they were friends and invited her into the front hallway, where Mrs. Meade kept her granddaughter in place with a hand on her shoulder as if Diana were prone to bolting. Melissa, crouched on the bottom step, thought Diana looked like the least-likely flight risk of all time. You had to be scared to run away and Melissa was pretty sure nothing had scared Diana in all her life. She stood tall and straight with her hands at her sides like she was a visiting princess. She even greeted Gran with an actual handshake, just like a grownup.

“Well, Kate,” said Gran, “this is unexpected.” Then, as if she wanted to make sure she didn't seem too rude, she smiled at Diana. “Somebody has certainly inherited the family poise.”

“She's definitely a Meade,” said Mrs. Meade, “though not entirely, and I think that might be just as well.” She glanced past Gran to where Melissa sat, and the sharp-cornered smile softened a little. “I am sorry for not calling first. After I heard what had happened, given that Melissa will be with you a few days I thought . . . well, strength in numbers. Maybe it's time the girls get to know each other better.”

Although Mrs. Meade didn't explain what she meant by this, Gran nodded as if she had.

“It's probably for the best. This isn't the same world we brought ours into; not anymore.” She looked over her shoulder to smile encouragingly at the little girl on the bottom step. “Melissa, why don't you take Diana out back? Mrs. Meade and I need to talk.”

Diana was perfectly willing to be led out back into a tangle of trees whose canopies seemed too large for the backyard they were meant to shelter. Light filtered through the leaves and cast dancing golden patterns on the thin grass and mossy patches, making it feel more like a forest than a lawn. Diana didn't say anything at first, but she turned in slow circles under the trees, staring up at them with wide dark eyes. Melissa, accustomed to the trees, stared at Diana instead.

Diana sat at the blue table at school. The teacher never actually  _said_  so, but everyone in the class already knew the blue table was the best reading group. Melissa was at the red table, which was all right (at least it wasn't the yellow table) but it was no blue table. The blue table was for kids like Diana Meade and Sally Matthews, who could even read the really big picture books without the teacher helping at all. Diana was never braggy about it, but Melissa felt a rush of envy mingled with admiration all the same. Imagine picking up a whole book and reading it without needing anyone to help you.

Diana was special. And she was here in Gran's yard, twirling under the trees like something sweet and magical that had floated in from the forest. Her grandma had brought her here for Melissa to play with . . . which, Melissa realized, she was not actually doing yet.

“Do you wanna play something?” she blurted.

“Okay,” Diana at once turned to face her hostess. “Like what?”

Melissa wasn't sure. She cast about anxiously for something that might appeal, but none of the shows she watched or the books she knew seemed wonderful enough to suggest. So she made something up.

“Let's be fairies.”

Diana's face lit up like she had been waiting her whole life for somebody to suggest that game.

“Yes!” she said. “Yes, fairies who live in a magic forest.”

Melissa's chest swelled at having brought that smile to Diana's face. Emboldened, she added her own expansion.

“And we can make wishes come true. Except somebody wants to steal the wishes for themselves so we live in secret.”

“That's what makes the forest magic!” Diana raced to press her back against one of the trees. “It protects us, so we can keep helping people, granting their wishes. Right?”

It was the most wonderful idea Melissa had heard in all her life.

“Right.” Then, bubbling over with delight at discovering a game with her new friend, she blurted: “I wish for us to  _always_  do magic together.”

“Granted,” giggled Diana. She waved her hand in acquiescence and Melissa gladly basked in the resulting shimmer of joy. Then they flitted away together between the trees, casting spells to banish evil until the September sun had nearly set and Gran called them both inside for supper.

 

* * *

  

Diana's tenth birthday party was planned by her grandmother. It was supposed to be Diana's first sleepover, and she only wanted Melissa and Sally Matthews for her guests; she made that clear for months in advance, but for some reason Mrs. Meade also invited Faye. Diana immediately fled to Melissa's house to seek consolation, because although Mrs. Meade did relent so far as to say Faye didn't have to spend the night, no matter how Diana tried she could not persuade her grandmother to disinvite her altogether.

“But why Faye?” Melissa wanted to know. “Why did your grandma think you'd want her?”

“I don't know,” Diana snuffled. “Something about her being friends with Faye's granddad I think, but that doesn't mean I should be friends with _her_ , does it? Faye  _hates_  me.”

“She couldn't,” Melissa said loyally, and meant it. Who could ever hate Diana?

If Faye hated Diana, she didn't make it obvious. In fact, Diana was one of the few girls at school who didn't come in for direct insults from Faye at all. But Diana remained convinced Faye must hate her, to the point that on the day of her party she actually made Melissa come up to her room to hide before her other guests arrived.

“We have to go down sometime,” Melissa pointed out. Diana, hugging her pillow to her chest, nodded.

“I know. But I just want to be . . . not there. At least a little while. I just want to be really high up and far away and this isn't even far enough.”

“Well there isn't much higher or farther,” Melissa said gently. “I mean, except maybe the roof, and we can't really get there.”

“No,” Diana allowed. “We can't, but I wish . . .” she trailed off, considering. “Oh!”

“What?” Melissa wanted to know.

“I'll show you.” Diana cast her pillow aside and ran out into the hallway. They stood together just past the stairway, and Diana pointed at the ceiling. “There.”

Melissa studied the outline of an opening.

“Is that your attic?”

“Yes. It opens with a rope, and a ladder comes down. I helped put our Christmas decorations up there last year.”

“You're not going to hide in the  _attic_ ,” Melissa protested.

“Why not?” Diana retorted.

“Because it's your birthday and you're having a party! You aren't going to hide just because of Faye, are you?”

“Of course I am!” Diana cried. “I'm not gonna hide  _from_  her or anything, but I just want to be far away from the party, somewhere I can know I don't  _have_  to go down before I actually do.”

Melissa wasn't sure she understood this reasoning, but that didn't stop her from helping drag a chair over to the attic trapdoor and hold it steady so Diana could pull the ladder down. The opening yawned dark and cavernous over their heads and even Diana faltered a moment, looking up.

“There was a light on last time,” she said quietly. Both girls stared at the ghost of a lamp-pull swinging far above their heads, well out of reach of a newly- or nearly-ten-year-old girl.

Melissa glanced sideways at Diana, took a deep breath, and said “well, what are we waiting for?”

She grabbed the sides of the ladder and started to climb.

The attic was bigger than any other room in Diana's house. The ceiling sloped down to the floor around the sides, but in the middle it would even have been tall enough for grown ups. The boxes piled in rows were all carefully labelled, and once the stacks marked “Diana - Keepsake” had been moved away from the window, enough daylight streamed in that they didn't even need to turn on the light.

“You have a lot of stuff,” Melissa noted. Diana, already noticeably more relaxed, nodded.

“Yeah. I don't even know what half of it is.”

“Well these ones have your name on them,” Melissa ran her hand over the 'keepsake' set.

Diana considered the stack thoughtfully. “Let's look inside.”

“Should we?”

“Why not? Like you said, they have my name on them. Here, we'll just do this one for now, okay?” She tugged one box off the top of the smaller pile and knelt beside it. “I want to see.”

They ripped through brittle packing tape and lifted the flaps to reveal a collection of fabric piled to the brim.

“Clothes!” Diana tugged the first piece free and shook out a small yellow romper. “Baby clothes.”

“ _Your_  baby clothes,” Melissa added, unfolding a fluffy blue dress. “Aw. You were tiny.”

“I was a baby,” Diana laughed. “Babies  _are_  tiny . . . hey look at this.” She pulled a larger garment from underneath the top layer of tiny outfits. “Oh _look_.”

The dress was short, made of dark blue satin. Diana laid it out flat across the box and traced the rhinestone starburst pattern just below the bustline.

“It's beautiful,” she said softly.

“There are more, too, see?” Melissa pulled out a few other pieces, cut generously loose around the middle. ”Where did they come from?”

Diana draped a blouse gently across her shoulders and swayed from side to side.

“I think . . . they must have been my mom's.”

Melissa froze momentarily, clutching a short, patterned maternity dress to her chest.

“Oh,” she said. “Um . . . do you think your dad . . . I mean, he must have put them here for you.”

“Yeah. To have someday.” Diana stared intently into the box, then abruptly buried her face in the jumble of fabric and breathed deeply. Melissa's chest tightened.

“Diana . . .”

Diana, face still hidden in the clothing, shook her head. Melissa stepped back, instinctively understanding that this was okay. It wasn't  _good_ , exactly, but it was all right. It was, at least, _necessary_.

When Diana lifted her face from the box of clothes, her eyes were bright.

“I think—” she began, but didn't get to the end of her sentence before her grandmother's voice rang through the house.

“Diana,” she called, “your next guest is here.”

“Okay,” Diana called back, her voice steadier than it had been all day. “We're coming.”

She tucked all the clothes back into the box and folded the flaps down. Melissa helped press them into place and they started for the ladder. Diana paused halfway and looked back.

“I don't want—” she began, and Melissa cut her off with a nod.

“I know. I won't.”

“Not even Sally,” Diana insisted. “It's not something for other people. Okay?”

“Okay,” said Melissa. “Not even Sally.”

She would have kept her word, except there was no chance to. Sally Matthews wasn't coming. Diana's grandmother joined the girls in the backyard to report that Sally had caught the flu and needed to stay home.

“Good,” Faye said coolly, as Mrs. Meade went back inside. “I was hoping she would.”

Diana scowled. Melissa, desperate to avoid any situation that would make Diana wish she'd stayed in the attic with the box of clothes, jumped in.

“How about we play the wish game?”

“The wish game?” Faye put her head to the side, intrigued. “What's that?”

The game Melissa and Diana had invented four years ago had undergone many adaptations since they were six, but the spirit was unchanged. Faye, hearing the description, was not impressed.

“Fairies?” she assessed and dismissed the concept with casual disdain. “Fairies are for babies. Let's be witches instead.”

Witches was a leap. It wasn't much at all like their usual arrangement. Melissa and Diana traded cautious looks, each trying to weigh how the other felt about such a shift from their original pattern.

“Well,” said Melissa, trying to be fair, “Hermione's a witch, right? In Harry Potter?”

“That's true,” Diana nodded, straightening up. “I like Hermione.”

“Of course you do; you  _are_  Hermione,” Faye snorted. She stood up on her toes and twirled a branch between her fingers, tugging sharply to separate it from the tree. Melissa, still keeping watch for any sign that Faye hated Diana as much as Diana claimed, decided that didn't count as an insult; Hermione was every bit as wonderful as Diana, which made it a compliment by default.

“Here,” Faye extended the torn branches, “witches need wands.”

Diana and Melissa both accepted tree branch wands, and the game began. This time there was nobody trying to steal wishes; instead, long-limbed zombies with the flesh falling off in chunks were coming from under the ground to eat their souls, and only their spells could save them from certain doom.

Faye thought of the most amazing spells. Diana and Melissa were both in awe of her, all dark-haired fury and barely-bridled power, flicking her twig wand at the lumps of dirt they had agreed were zombie holes and crying out terrible commands with a great weight of authority behind them.

Melissa half imagined she saw the mounds themselves recoil from the force of Faye's magic, the earth smoothing out in timid submission to the little girl's command. But that was foolish: they just weren't as big as they'd first looked, that was all. It couldn't have anything to do with Faye herself.

When every zombie had been flattened, they trooped inside for the meal. Faye, flushed with victory, steered the conversation for the most part except when Diana stepped in to redirect it. Melissa, mostly relieved nobody was actually arguing, simply followed the lead of each. When the meal was over Diana opened her presents and they returned to the backyard to conquer another round of zombies. There weren't as many mounds to fight as Melissa remembered, but before she could point this out to the other two, Faye's mother arrived to take her home.

Diana didn't look as relieved at this as Melissa would have expected her to, but she still didn't protest when they gathered in the front hallway to see her off.

“Faye?” Mrs. Chamberlain prompted. “What do you say?”

“Thanks for having me,” Faye said, and, prompted or not, it did sound genuine.

“I'm glad you came,” Diana replied. She also sounded like she meant it. Melissa beamed, and resisted the impulse to hug herself.

“Faye's not so bad,” she said, as they cuddled down in bed that night. It came out as kind of a question though, like she needed Diana to agree with her.

“I never said she was  _bad_ ,” Diana protested. “Only that she doesn't like me.”

“Well, she played our game with us. Kind of. She didn't have to do that.”

Diana didn't answer. Melissa searched for the right words to explain exactly what she was thinking, and why. She didn't want to hurt Diana's feelings by liking somebody Diana thought hated her. But she also felt like something good had happened today; like she had caught a glimpse of something she wanted more of. Whatever it was, it had to do with all three of them being friends. She didn't know  _why_ ; she just knew it was important. In the end that's exactly what she said.

“So maybe, can we  _try_  being friends?” she concluded. ”And then if you're right that Faye hates you, we can just . . . stop again? But first, can we give her a chance?”

“I guess,” said Diana, because Diana was scrupulously fair. She fiddled with one strand of hair, wrapping it tight around as many of her fingers as she could before there was no more hair to wrap. Then she held it in her fist and added, “but even when we're all friends, I don't want her to know about what we found. My mom's things? I just want that to be for us. At least for now.”

Melissa nodded.

“I promise.”

  

* * *

 

“She's going to cancel,” Faye predicted.

“She won't!” Melissa said, but she wasn't nearly as sure as Faye. Faye was so convinced she was right that she didn't even look up from her laptop.

“Fine,” said Faye, fingers still moving over the keyboard, “but don't expect me to say anything other than 'I told you so' when she does.”

“She won't cancel,” Melissa insisted. “I know she did a few times—”

“A  _few_?!”

“—a  _few_  times, but this is different. We always do this. Ever since . . . always. She won't cancel.”

“I dunno, Melissa. Going by the last couple messages she sent Sally, she's got something planned for tonight.”

“Yeah. Something with  _me_. She's not going to—wait, Sally? Sally Matthews? How do you know what messages Diana sent—Faye,” Melissa grabbed the laptop and turned the screen to face her, “did you log in as Sally again?”

“Excuse your greasy fingers,” Faye huffed, and turned the screen back.

“Faye!”

“What? Oh come on Melissa. If Sally doesn't want people to guess her password, she's gonna have to be a little less obvious. Cultivate some mystery, or something.” Faye pursed her lips in a tiny expression of self-satisfaction. “No hidden depths  _there_ , that's for sure . . . anyway, here, see for yourself.” She carefully framed the screen with her palms and turned it back to Melissa. “ _Without_  smudging.”

Melissa took a step forward before she thought better of it and quickly shook her head.

“No. Those are their private messages, I don't want to see.”

“Suit yourself. But don't pretend you didn't know it was coming when Diana ditches you again.”

Melissa grabbed her jacket off the bed and started for the door. On the point of exit she glanced back at Faye.

“Are you just staying here?”

“Mm-hmm. You know the way out, after all, and  _Sally_ ,” she tapped the keys with grim enthusiasm, “is about to start a little drama on Cory McPhee's wall.”

Melissa shook her head and pulled the door shut behind her.

Diana was waiting for Melissa when she arrived, all smiles. Melissa suffered a quick rush of relief she would never confess to Faye. Diana  _had_  cancelled on her an awful lot, lately.

“Come on,” Diana said, the second Melissa's bag hit the bed. “Let's go.”

The attic was familiar territory by now. They scaled the ladder without fear and immediately lit on the next unopened box. Even after two years of being mostly-friends with Faye, this was something they had kept only for themselves.

“Wait.” Melissa paused in the act of reaching for it. “This is the last one, right?”

Diana nodded.

“There were five, remember? We did the first one on my birthday, the second on yours. Then again last year, and so . . . this is the end.”

Melissa's stomach heaved at those words.

“The end of the  _boxes_ ,” she felt the need to clarify. Diana looked up quizzically.

“Well, yeah.” She searched her friend's face. “Is something wrong?”

Melissa hesitated, on the verge of blurting out some softened version of what she and Faye had been discussing. But Faye's prediction hadn't come true, and they were here, together, about to open the final box. Surely that proved there wasn't anything to worry about. She and Diana were fine.

“No, nothing's wrong. What are you waiting for? Let's see what's in this one.”

Diana beamed, bright and dazzling. “Together?”

She and Melissa each put a hand on the lid. “One, two . . .”

On three they pushed it open and leaned over the contents.

“Books!” Diana said, surprised but not disappointed. “Look, school books.”

“Other kinds too,” Melissa giggled, pulling out several fat, tattered paperbacks with lurid covers. “Man, your mom was kind of a romantic, huh?”

“I guess so,” Diana said wistfully, trailing her fingers over the embossed metallic script of one title. “I don't really know.”

Melissa flinched. Of course she didn't. None of them did. She was on the verge of apologizing when Diana stilled beside her.

“What's this?” She pried a smaller book free from the back of the box, nearly hidden under a Math text. It was about the size of the novels Melissa had worked free, but looked much older. The cover was smooth to the touch, veined with time, and when Diana flipped the cover it fell open and stayed that way.

“What  _is_  this?” Diana repeated. She turned a few pages, studying the faded ink sketches on each. Most showed the stems and flowers of various plants, each carefully labelled. Some were more anatomical in nature, though the anatomy wasn't always human. Melissa crouched down as Diana angled the page to take the light better.

“These words here . . . are they English?”

“I  _think_  so.” Diana tilted her head to verify her suspicion. “Yes, here's 'the' and . . . yes, it's English. The letters are just weird and squished.”

They flipped through the book together, stopping on occasion to comment on some of the stranger things they found. Toward the back the letters got a little less squished and a little easier to read; near the end Diana stopped on one page in particular and said “hey, this says 'A Spell to Give Light'.”

“Like, an actual spell? I mean, an actual magic spell?”

“I guess,” Diana said doubtfully. “If there were such a thing, anyway.”

“Right,” said Melissa. But her tone lacked conviction as well.

They both stared at the book. Neither of them said out loud what each was thinking—what each hoped the other was thinking—but neither did they turn to the next page. Instead, in the same breath, they both began to read the words aloud.

Melissa was pretty sure it wouldn’t have worked if they hadn’t met when they did. If their grandmothers hadn’t brought them together before they were old enough to be really shy with each other, if they hadn’t started casting spells in the form of fairy wishes, if they hadn’t seen the power they could wield with branch wands and Faye’s zombie curses . . . she wouldn’t even have believed what was happening. Wouldn’t have believed enough to _make_ it happen.

But her words and Diana’s curled around each other— _bring light to darkness, drive out shadow, give us means to see_ —and she felt the power rush out of them, a shimmer of magic that spread into every corner and made the attic shine like the sun.

“Oh,” Diana gasped. “Oh!”

They stared in disbelieving joy at what they had done, then at each other. Diana’s face shone with the reflected light of the attic and an entirely new understanding.

This book had been her mother’s. This power had been, too.

Her friend’s face was bright as day, and in that moment, absolutely everything about Melissa’s life brightened too.

 

* * *

 

Melissa sat back on the antique settee in Jane Blake's front room and appreciated the way her feet actually touched the floor. Antique furniture was forgiving that way; even when you were short, it still let you feel something closer to normal size.

“It was very kind of you to stop by, Melissa,” Jane said. “I'm sorry Cassie won't arrive until this evening, but I'm sure you'll have the chance to meet her soon enough. Can I get you something to drink before you leave?”

Normally Melissa would have declined, but something about sitting up tall and straight in the front room made a drink sound like the right idea.

“Yes, please,” she decided, so Jane brought her a glass of lemonade, tart and sweet, and smiled at Melissa's sounds of appreciation as she sampled it.

“Your mother liked my lemonade too,” she remembered, settling into a chair across from her guest. “She and Amelia used to go through pitchers of it.”

Melissa studied the glass and smudged her thumb through the condensation built up on the side.

“Did she spend a lot of time with . . . with Cassie's mom?” Even with what they had been able to piece together from the book of shadows and stories overheard, uncovered and otherwise extracted, it still seemed they knew next to nothing about the lives of the people who had been their parents. Nobody wanted to talk.

But Jane was different.

“They all did,” she said calmly. “All those kids were very close. Your mother, Cassie's mother, Diana's . . . they were in and out of here constantly, every one of them.”

Melissa tried to picture it, their parents as a crowd of teenagers sprawled on furniture, eating pizza, doing homework and maybe even designing spells, testing the limits of what they could do together. Her chest curled up painfully, protectively around the image.

“It makes me feel like we already know her,” she admitted. “Know Cassie, I mean. Because of . . . all of them being friends, before.”

Jane smiled reassuringly, as if she knew Melissa was worried that sounded strange and wanted her to feel better about it.

“Well, you do have a connection with her already in that way. And it won't be long before you have a real connection on your own account.”

Melissa thought of the tiny flames Faye could light now; of Diana's promise that Cassie meant more power, more reason for them to come together, greater strength and unity for all of them as a Circle. It seemed almost like a dream, the idea that they would all be finally re-connected, bigger and better besides.

“Yeah,” she said, “soon we will.”

“I'm glad you came, Melissa. It's been a real encouragement; you know, I was so hoping that Cassie would find friends here. It will be good for her to feel wanted.”

Melissa's smile was heartfelt and genuine as she sat forward.

“Oh don't worry about that, Mrs. Blake. I promise she will.” Her vow carried all the conviction of Diana's: power in unity, strength in numbers.

“We'll make sure of it.”

**Author's Note:**

> The shape and focus of this comes chiefly from Diana and Melissa's conversation in _Fire/Ice_ when they were getting ready for the dance. Your prompt for childhood flashbacks seemed perfectly suited to two people with so much shared history.
> 
> I want to thank you for the chance to write these girls. I have such a soft spot for all of them, so the opportunity to imagine these fragments of their growing-up years was a pleasure.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
